The Ishbal Massacre: The Power of the Sage's Stone
by Morbid Original
Summary: [oneshot]The Eastern war, known to some as the Ishbal Massacre. Only a soldier can tell its story in truth: the tragedy, the loss. The true cause. How a mission to keep the peace turned into a war to end all wars.


**The Ishbal Massacre: The Power of the Sage's Stone**

The train came to a halt at a solitary water tower in the Ishbalan desert. At the horizon line between endless gray sky and gold sand, sat the worn stone walls of Ishbal.

The Major was shaken roughly awake and upon opening his eyes, found himself under the dark stare of the Colonel, Basque Grand.

"Get up," Grand barked.

The Major stood quickly, stumbling with the brief dizziness of the movement, and saluted. Grand narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth against his tanned face, and he thrust a rifle at the Major.

"Straighten up, Mustang," he growled, "or you won't make it out on the field," and he turned and went into the next car.

"Yes sir," Mustang said quietly, running his hand through his short black hair, and slung the rifle across his back.

The troops were lining up outside the station, all in identical blue soldiers' uniforms brandishing varying medals. At least a few thousand of them had arrived, all ranks – majors, lieutenants, colonels, generals, brigadier generals. And the Fuhrer himself. He stood before the group, smiling wordlessly as he surveyed them, with his one eye; the other remained covered with a black eye-patch, the reason no one knew; only part of a thin scar was visable, reaching up to his dark brow. He glanced briefly at the majors Mustang, Armstrong, Kimblee, and the colonels, Grand and Marcoh before he began.  
"Will all the troops begin unloading the supplies and ammunition. Bring everything to the storage tent. State Alchemists," the Fuhrer turned to them once again, "will come directly to camp."  
The Major stood in line beside the other State Alchemists. The Fuhrer read off their names.  
"Major Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strongarm Alchemist; Major Zolf J. Kimblee, the Crimson Alchemist; Colonel Basque Grand, the Iron-Blood Alchemist; Colonel Tim Marcoh, the Crystal Alchemist; and Major Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. You have all been asked here in case worse comes to worse. We are here merely to keep the peace between the Ishbalans and their neighbors, but if any threat breaks out, we shall have to turn to you," the Fuhrer said.  
"I have something to show you. It's Dr. Marcoh's greatest discovery."  
He held up a small black box and opened it. The inside was lined with velvet on which was placed five rings with red stones in the centers.  
"These are the Sage's Stones, close copies of the fabled Philosopher's Stone. These will enhance your alchemic abilities to immeasurable strengths. These are our 'secret weapons', and they are our last resort."

Days passed with no signs of an outbreak. The Ishbalans hadn't been pleased by the military's presence, but they did not resist. Still the Sage's Stones lay unused in a box in the Fuhrer's tent. Until the disaster.  
A single shot rang out, followed by screams of surprise and terror. Sounds of an uproar soon followed, accompanied by more gunshots and sounds like breaking glass.  
"What's going on?" Mustang asked, rushing into the tent where Grand stood waiting, a twisted snarl of a grin on his face.  
"Our little Juliet. Keeping the peace as always," he scoffed, tracing a finger over his short mustache.  
"What?"  
"Leave it to the women to screw things up. Shot a kid by accident. Stirred up the locals to the point of rebellion against the troops. Soldier casualties are racking up already. We've got to go."  
"No," Roy said. "I will not fight under the conditions you have set forth! The Sage's Stones-"  
"The Fuhrer has ordered that we use these weapons."  
"But they _aren't_ weapons!"  
"Then what are they?" Grand demanded.  
Mustang didn't answer.  
"They serve man no other purpose," Grand said.  
"Then man should not use them!"  
"Mustang," the Fuhrer stepped into the tent.  
Mustang saluted quickly, falling into frustrated silence.  
"You will do as you are told if you ever wish to progress in your position in the military. Do you understand?"  
He nodded slowly, swallowing.  
The Fuhrer narrowed his eye at him.  
"Take this," he said, handing him a ring with the Sage's Stone; "Take this, and fulfill your duty."

"I know many of you came here today thinking you would all go home in one piece," said Grand, pacing slowly in front of the soldiers. The entire desert was bathed in the orange, ethereal light that was sunset on the desert. "And I will tell you now that you are wrong.  
"This is not a test, and this is not a game. _This is war_. And you have given your word to die for this war in the name of our country, our military. You have pledged to give up your very life, in great honor, under the Fuhrer King Bradley!"  
Cheers rang out amongst the soldiers, some raising their guns high in the air or chanting the Fuhrer's name over and over. Grand held up hand to silence them.  
"Remember: you're here to keep them in line. Do not shoot unless you have to, but take any sign of violence as a threat."  
He looked over the crowd of soldiers.  
"If you're ready..." he began. "Move in!"  
He gave the command, and the troops rushed in, guns at the ready. Already shots were heard as the war-hungry youths found their own reasons to kill.**  
**"State Alchemists," Grand said, slipping on his ring; "you know what to do."  
Roy nodded and walked in, taking his time, his gloved hand resting on the hilt of his pistol. It was already starting to look like war. Bloodied corpses of Ishbalans and Soldiers littered the streets. Those who were alive were running, either away from trouble or into it. Those who still put up a fight were shot without a moment of thought. Those with guns were killed immediately. Women, children, everyone.  
Roy still had orders to follow. He walked until he was alone in a maze of stone buildings, the Fuhrer's words echoing in his head: _"This city is a threat to us. To everyone. It must be destroyed."_  
And so it was. Roy held up his right hand. The alchemic array on his glove allowed him to manipulate fire, but also, he had the Sage's Stone ring.  
_"It must be destroyed."_  
Robotically, he held up his shaking hand, and snapped his fingers...  
The world erupted around him. Stone walls crumbling, explosions of yellow and red light coming out of thin air, more screaming than ever. Flames shot out of buildings from miles around, and it smelled of smoke and burning flesh. More explosions like giants guns went off as the other alchemists used the stones.  
Mustang shook his head in bewilderment, hypnotized by the inferno of the crumbling city.  
"What have we become..."

It went on like this for days; until news reached the Fuhrer that some of the doctors who had come to help the soldiers were helping Ishbalans as well. The few that the soldiers had left alive were coming back and attacking them again. This, as charged by the Fuhrer, had to be stopped.  
Mustang received the orders at dawn: You will do as you are told. You will assassinate the two doctors from Resembool.  
Mustang, like many of the other soldiers, had by now shut down all emotions and thoughts he could survive without. He was numb, standing there with the pistol pointed at them.  
"Please! We have a daughter-!"  
He pulled the trigger, but he still heard it. The doctors, husband and wife, were facedown in a puddle of their blood.  
This was the breaking point. Mustang stood there shaking, looking down at the lifeless bodies of the doctors while outside, sounds of the fight continued.  
"Oh, no," Doctor Marcoh said as he entered the medical tent. He kneeled down beside the bodies and pulled something out of the mother's hand. It was a photograph of a smiling young girl with a bow in her short blond hair.  
"The Rockbells," Marcoh muttered, standing up. "Who gave these commands?" he asked Roy.  
Before he could answer, Grand came in.  
"Good work, Mustang. Not a wasted bullet. You always were a good shot," he said.  
"They didn't try to run," Roy said, his voice shaking. "Sir, why weren't they just demoted or sent home? Why didn't-"  
"It's a bit late to ask questions, Mustang," Grand said, frowning. "You had your orders."  
"But why?" Marcoh asked incredulously. "They were innocent! They had a child!"  
"They were traitors! They were healing the enemy," said Grand. "There was nothing innocent about them."  
"What treason did they commit, helping anyone who came to them in need?" Marcoh said.  
Grand didn't answer.  
"Get back out there, Crystal Alchemist. Roy, that's all we ask of you today," he said finally, and they left.

At sunrise, Mustang found himself in the medical tent yet again, staring down at the blood-stained ground. _Innocent_…Roy choked on air, nearly collapsing there at the site of the murder. Then another thought crossed his mind, a way to bring an end to this, once and for all.  
Grabbing the pistol out of its holster, he held it under his chin, the barrel by his throat. He hesitated by the trigger as a voice interrupted his thoughts.  
"Don't do that!"  
Mustang dropped the gun, turning to face the opening in the tent.  
Marcoh stood there, holding what looked like his research documents under his arm.  
"Why would you do something so foolish?" he scolded.  
Roy looked down at the blood-covered ground.  
"I-"  
"This is my mistake. My burden to bear," Marcoh said. "There is no reason to spill more blood." Then he smiled. "If I leave, will you tell anyone?" he asked.  
Mustang shook his head.  
"No, sir."  
"Good."  
Marcoh turned to leave, and Mustang noticed that he carried a small vile of red liquid. Marcoh followed his gaze.  
"It that-"  
"The Sage's Stone. I'm taking it with me," Marcoh said. "You still have the rings, but they won't last long. They're very unstable. Once their power is used up, they're useless."  
Roy saluted him as he left, going out the back of the tent so as not to be seen. He almost wanted to follow him, but he had no plans, no place to hide. He had never thought to desert, and he wasn't going to now. There was still the war to take care of. Maybe he could hurry it up; the faster Ishbal was destroyed, the sooner the whole nightmare would be over.  
Mustang left the tent, walking out into the near deserted streets of Ishbal. He slipped the Sage's Stone ring onto his right hand, the Fuhrer's words ringing in his head: "Take this, Mustang, and fulfill your duty."

**A/N: Woot! Did this for a short story at school. The spacing's a little weird, but oh well.  
I do not, and never will, own Fullmetal Alchemist, but I do, however, "pwn" it, and was hence able to write this kickass oneshot.  
JK. But it rocked. I'm happy with it, anyway. I got an A! Eat it. Naa, thanks for reading anyway. Hearts, luvs, byes.  
-In Mercy-  
The Morbid Original**


End file.
